


We Will Never Be Here Again

by blcwriter



Series: Pecan Pie 'Verse [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Imported, LiveJournal, M/M, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blcwriter/pseuds/blcwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  The boys blow off some steam after finals.</p><p>Okay, so I wrote <a href="http://blcwriter.livejournal.com/16214.html">"Just Desserts,"</a> and when it was done, I realized I'd just written my first established-relationship fic, all my past K/M fics having been friendship or first-time fics.  And then all these little ideas kept popping up and I realized ... there's a whole lot of room in that fictional 'ship for snippet-y goodness.  And lo, the Pecan Pie 'Verse was born, a 'verse full of sweet, gooey Jim and Bones moments that don't want to go in one longer fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Will Never Be Here Again

When he pushed open the door to their off-campus apartment, he knew the day had arrived-- today was the day when he strangled James Tiberius Kirk and rued the moment of lunacy he'd been suffering under when he'd agreed to move in with the guy and out of the dorms.  It had seemed like a good idea at the time-- everyone in the dorms was so _young_ and while McCoy wasn't a rabble-rouser, the idea of lights out and their Big Brother computer monitoring system stuck in his craw-- Jim even more so.

 _Really,_ he thought around the sound cascading around him louder than the walls tumbling at Jericho. _I'm surprised it took me this long.  It's been good while it lasted, we did make it one summer and a whole damned semester._

 __Pop music-- _loud_ pop music, twentieth century if Jim's general taste was any tell-- was blaring over the stereo, the one Jim had rigged with speakers all over their four-room apartment, so loud that it took until he was in the doorway of Jim's room to hear the rest of the racket Jim was making.

 _This is how the kid blows off steam after finals?_ McCoy thought to himself, his headache from staring at PADDs during a weeks' constant studying starting to throb with  the music Jim was playing.  He'd known Jim a year and a half and this was his first inkling of _this_.

" _Unless the music's thumping/ All the dishes rattle in the cupboards/ when the elephants arrive,_ " Jim sang at the top of his lungs, his pleasant light baritone raised in almost a bellow as he jumped on top of his bed, then did a flip and bounced around to face his thunderstruck roommate. 

"Hey! Bones!" he yelled with a grin, never stopping his jumping as the music played on.  The kid actually waggled his hips, snapped his fingers and wiggled his eyebrows in time with the chorus, the one he started singing again as the band's lead repeated " _Love you, love you/ Love you madly_ ," and the guitar reverb and disco synth beat kicked in again. 

_A disco beat, for fuck's sake._

"You break that bed an' you're not sleeping on the couch, that's for sure," he said loudly, but Jim just stuck out his tongue and did another flip on the hedonist's Eden that was his California king bed.  God knew where the kid got the money to buy it, McCoy hadn't asked-- he'd been afraid to, quite actually.  There were many things about Jim Kirk that were best left unasked.  The forest of covers Jim liked to heap over himself were all on the floor, the sheets and pillows completely askew from Jim's antics.

"I'm not going to break it," Jim retorted, "I do this all the time.  Just because you're not here, Doctor Cranky McGrumpypants, doesn't mean the tree doesn't fall in the forest.  Or that Jim Kirk doesn't jump on his bed."

The whole while Jim never quit bouncing around, and Bones watched with detached fascination as the kid treated his mattress like a goddamned trampoline, the bed not squeaking at all on the sturdy platform Jim had placed it upon.  ("No goddamned bedsprings creaking all night or I'll kill you _and_ your partner," he'd said, back when he was laying out ground rules for their living together.)

The song segued into another upbeat bouncy song as Jim kept jumping and flipping and grinning like he was a damned five-year old. 

"You look like a circus performer," McCoy finally said, having forgotten to tell Jim to turn the damned music down, transfixed as he was by the sight of his (arguably) grown man of a roommate behaving like a child, jumping in socks, t-shirt and boxer briefs, his face flushed light pink and blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I was," Jim said with a grin, executing a perfect mid-air somersault before landing on his feet again, the mattress bowing under his feet.

"What?" McCoy shouted over the music, jaw gaping. 

"Ran away with the circus when I was sixteen," Jim said with a twinkle, doing a handstand and then doing _clap-ups_ , for fuck's sake, talk about abs and agility, in time with the beat of the song.  "Travelled with them for half a year, did some acrobatics and high wire stuff, helped with the animals.  Left after I slept with the lion tamer-- _boy_ , his husband was pissed when he caught us, even though he was cheating on Andre with the Ringmaster Tanya, what hypocrisy, hunh?"

Jim's grin was completely unrepentant and for all McCoy knew, he was telling the truth.  It wouldn't be the wildest tale from Jim's youth.

"So, how'd your XenoPath final go?"  Jim asked then, twisting into this flexible backbend that had McCoy thinking perhaps some of the wilder things he'd heard about Jim might really be true.  It must have shown on his face, because Jim waggled his eyebrows and said "Double-jointed.  Practically everywhere," and stuck out his tongue before bouncing around like a moron again, mimicking moves from one of those old nineteen-seventies movies they both liked to mock.

"It was fine.  You're an infant, you know that?"

"You're a party-pooping pain in the ass," Jim said in retort, then flipped off the bed to land on his feet right in front of McCoy.  The doctor mentally patted himself on the back for not flinching as Jim hurtled toward him, and Jim grinned as McCoy stood his ground like he always did.

"Come on, Bones.  When was the last time you jumped on a bed?  You look even grumpier than usual, you're going to cause a black hole to erupt in the apartment if you don't cheer the fuck up.  _You need to bounce on a bed_."  The last was said with one of Jim's evil grins, the one that boded no good for McCoy and his once stubborn resistance.  It turned out Jim Kirk's middle name was also Erosion.

"I don't _need to bounce on a bed_ ," McCoy grumped, mocking Jim's tone.  "I _need_ a bottle of bourbon, a bucket of ice, a bottle of aspirin, and for you to _turn this damned music down_."

His protest met with no luck-- Jim had already grabbed McCoy by the shoulders and shoved him onto his bed-- "So help me Jim, you'd better have changed your damned sheets since your last overnight visitor" he growled as Jim tugged McCoy's boots off, the doctor glaring up at his blonde, blue-eyed devil roommate the whole while.  No sooner did his second boot hit the floor then Jim had crawled back up on the bed, this time bouncing on all fours over McCoy, who was lying still with his arms crossed. 

"Whatsa matter, Bones, damned kids on the lawn again?" Jim taunted, pushing upright and jumping up and down, feet hitting the mattress on either side of McCoy's body. 

"Did you have to walk uphill both ways to school, barefoot, in snow?" he asked next, never stopping with the "goddamned fucking Tigger routine, Jim, knock it off, if you stomp on my head you're going to wish I was that old, 'cause I'm gonna pound the snot outta you."

"I know!" Jim crowed, pointing down at McCoy with a grin on his face while McCoy tried to ignore the way Jim's junk bounced rather impressively in his boxer briefs right overhead.  Christ, if the kid was soft now, what would it be like if he got...

"I know!" Jim interrupted that inappropriate thought, thank the lord.  "You put in the wrong set of dentures and had to eat pudding for lunch!  And they only had vanilla!  And you wanted butterscotch!"

McCoy shifted and raised an arm, slapping at Jim.  He wasn't really trying to smack him but he wasn't willing to put up no fight at all, either.  Jim, the damned hyperkinetic sonofabitch, grabbed the arm McCoy had swung at him and held on, bouncing and squatting enough to grab McCoy's other arm and then jump up and down while holding McCoy's hands. 

"Come on, Bones," he whined, spoiling the tone with a grin that burst out again as he sang " _Look at all the happy creatures dancing on the lawn..._ " along with the song now playing on the stereo, bellowing " _Doo, doo, doo, lookin' out my back door!_ " at the top of his admittedly melodious lungs-- _even when he was obnoxious, the kid could carry a tune--_ as he held onto McCoy's hands and pretended they were waltzing at high speed.

"Get your tired old ass up off my bed and dance with me, damnit," Jim said, then resorted to the dirtiest trick in the book-- he dropped to all fours over McCoy and started tickling him, the fucking unbelievable jackass, pinning McCoy's arms at his sides as he dug in his fingers and tortured the soft spots on McCoy's ribs he'd discovered months ago when he was drunk and thought a tickle attack was the best way to make the grim doctor smile.  He'd been right, the dumb cocksucker, McCoy was helpless when people tickled him. 

He was whooping with hysterical laughter soon enough, tears streaming down his cheeks and making his nose stuffy, and was totally floppy and weak when Jim stopped, his manic grin disappearing as he heaved to his feet again at the song change, then bodily hauled McCoy to a standing position.

"This is my _song_ , Bones, you can either jump on my bed with me or I'll tickle you more," he said, the proferred rock and a hard place not such a hard choice once the opening notes made some sense to the doctor.  He actually liked this particular song, and he could see why Jim thought it was his particular anthem.

He kind of felt like an ass and his first half-hearted jumps were totally stupid, but Jim just grinned like a loon and grabbed McCoy's hands again, bouncing back and forth between feet as he waved their arms over his head.  How on earth they were going to avoid knocking each other unconscious, McCoy didn't know, but Jim let go and bounced back a foot or two before doing a back flip in time with the song's singer crowing " _It's a girl, my lord, in a flatbed Ford, slowin' down to take a look at me._ "  Jim's gleeful smirk when he landed on his feet again-- seemed like the kid always did that-- made it impossible for McCoy not to smile again, and Jim started clapping his hands like a manic sea lion when McCoy started singing along, then let himself jump a bit higher.

" _We may lose or we may win/ but we will never be here again/ so open up, I'm climbin' in..._ "

With his heart in his throat, McCoy tried a flip, and when he landed on his back without cracking his neck, the look of glee on Jim's face was totally worth it.  " _Yeah!_   You go _on_ with your grumpy bad self, Leonard McCoy!"  He promptly hauled McCoy to his feet again, then tried to show the doctor how to make a full frontwards flip while instructing from a one-handed handstand.

The fact that Jim was a "goddamned cocky circus act showoff" didn't stop McCoy from trying again, and when he nailed it this time, Jim's ponderous Olympian proclamation that the doctor's effort earned him seven of ten points got him a lunge and a tickle attack of his own.  They wrestled and bounced on the bed until the end of the song and Jim called for the computer to put it on repeat as the two men romped like morons on Jim's bed, then goofed around to the rest of the songs on Jim's playlist, most of which it turned out McCoy knew and ended up singing along with.

Finally, wheezing, McCoy collapsed on Jim's bed and Jim flopped down beside him, insinuating McCoy's arm under his shoulders so he could rest his sweat-damp head on McCoy's upper chest.  McCoy drifted off as Jim continued to sing to himself, stereo off and light from outside fading as the blonde's pleasant voice murmured, almost _sotto voce_ , " _Lighten up while you still can/ Don't even try to understand..._ "

He didn't understand Jim sometimes, he mused sleepily-- not that it mattered.  Anyone who could make McCoy do flips on a bed after his xenopathology final was something special and different.  And while maybe this particular moment might not happen again, it wasn't the first time Jim had made McCoy enjoy being an idiot.  He lazily wondered when the next time would be-- his last thought was that he hoped it was soon.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering about the songs they're dancing to, the lyrics I quoted are from Cake's ["Love You Madly,"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cPGKR_mLouQ) Credence Clearwater Revival's ["Lookin' Out My Back Door,"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RqZhM75aGMg) and The Eagles' ["Take it Easy."](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPospvRqP_s)  Because if Jim listens to the Beasties as Classic Rock then he's got to like these songs, too.


End file.
